


serendipity

by stirringwinds



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Language, Mokuton Sakura, Team as Family, Trauma, Worldbuilding, and it's not fate or destiny but the choices people make that matter, legends and legacies are complicated things, village history and politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirringwinds/pseuds/stirringwinds
Summary: Sasuke had never known Senju Hashirama in person, of course. But he had grown up hearing stories about the First Hokage at his mother’s knee—about the legend who had defeated the most powerful member of their own clan. Enough stories to recognise what he was seeing—and to know he was witnessing his teammate perform theimpossible.Or, in the fight against Gaara during Suna’s attempted invasion of Konoha, the Ichibi’s attempt to kill Sakura awakens an unexpected power. It changes the destiny of Team Seven forever.





	1. catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main point where this story diverges from canon is manga chapter 129, when Team 7 battles against Gaara during the invasion of Konoha.

It begins, as so many things do, small and unnoticed.

 

It starts on a mist-shrouded bridge in Wave Country. Sakura is tense with fear, clutching a kunai in front of her, trying not to tremble as she stands in front of the old man who had in his desperation, lied to the most powerful military organisation in Fire Country about the parameters of his mission.

 

Sakura doesn’t know it yet, but when Naruto howls in fury at the sight of Sasuke lying on the ground, cold and unbreathing—and smashes the strange boy’s ice prison into smithereens, the roil of demonic chakra he unleashes reaches her senses. And it stirs  _something_  within, waiting for the perfect moment to fully awaken.  

 

* * *

 

Someone is screaming her name, but all Sakura sees are flashes of light as her head and entire body cracks  _hard_  against the bark of the tree. Then, shooting  _pain_  everywhere. She gasps for air.

 

Only to be suffocated with the crushing, choking sensation of an overwhelmingly malicious chakra. She feels it, searing and terrible, a burning sensation running through the sand claw now wrapped around her body.

 

The conscious part of her mind told her that there was in reality no heat, just the awful pressure of a closing vice ready to crush her. But somehow, she feels as though she were being burned alive.

 

This was it. She was going to  _die_.

 

In the grip of a monster that had once been that crimson-haired Suna shinobi, crushing her with waves of this terrible, terrible energy that choked her very being on a primal level. She tries to expand her lungs to take a breath but she only feels the space closing in. Her vision is graying out—the intellectual part of her mind that had always been so good at memorising facts unhelpfully points out that the eyes were some of the most oxygen-hungry organs.

 

She can’t  _breathe_ , she’s going to  _die_ , the bark of the tree she is crushed against rough and unforgivingly hard against her back.

 

_I don’t want to die, I’m so scared, please I don’t want to die, no no no I’m scared—_

Time slows to a crawl. It was true, what they said about your life flashing before your eyes.

 

She thinks of her parents. They hadn’t expected her to want to be a shinobi, but had gone along when she asked to attend the Academy. Indulging their only daughter, smiling and nodding whenever she ran home, excitedly telling them the new things she had learned that day, even when they didn’t understand it.

 

She thinks of her  _team_.

 

She thinks of never seeing them all again. Her team, whom she had only just started to get to know.

 

Sasuke, whom she had wasted so much time fawning over, without getting to really know him as a human being, until he had faced death in Wave Country and then in the Forest of Death. Who’d been fighting Gaara before they arrived, who was now on the ground in pain, the dark shadows of the terrible Curse Seal crawling over his body as he struggled to force it back. Sasuke, who she had tried and failed to protect.

 

Naruto, the foolish boy she had wasted so much time dismissing and lecturing as though she were better than him, who was so determined and brave, who never gave up—who must now be standing alone against that horrible, terrifying incarnation of sand, trying to save them both.

 

Sensei, always reading his stupid books and driving her up the wall with his chronic tardiness—but tall, strong and reassuring, who so easily cut down the men who had almost killed her back in the arena when the battle erupted—who would now have to live with the death of at least one of his students on his conscience—

 

—all because she remained stupid and  _weak_. Hadn’t she vowed that things would be different from then on in the Forest of Death and yet—

 

 _Useless_ , she screams and rages at herself. Not with resignation and despair, but roiling, sharp and bright  _anger_.

 

It was like a barrier had been breached. Hot, fiery anger that expanded through her entire body, pure  _energy_. The feeling of lifeforce everywhere, even in the tree against her back, no longer hard and rough but thrumming with  _life_. The surreal sensation of not seeing, but  _feeling_  every leaf unfurling and growing, every microscopic cell dividing—

 

 _I don’t want to die, I can’t die now, I haven’t done enough, I_ won’t _die—_

The chakra rushes through her being in a torrent—and she sees nothing but  _light_  as the sand coffin around her disintegrates.

 

* * *

Temari will later curse herself for freezing when the sand crushing the unconscious pink-haired girl she had mentally written off  _exploded_ , pierced by monstrous, rapidly growing wooden vines. She stumbles backwards, trips and lands awkwardly on her ankle.  _Fuck_.

 

It took her a while to realise what she was seeing.

 

* * *

 

Unlike Temari, Sasuke immediately  _understood_. Without consciously realising it, he’d instinctively dredged and wringed out whatever remained of his chakra and channelled it to his eyes.

 

He watches in shock, Sharingan memorising every detail of Sakura’s dirt-streaked face, the anger in her green eyes and the sharp, curving lines of the enormous wooden vines that swarmed and strangled the sand claw attached to the deranged Suna shinobi.

 

The grotesque, half-transformed boy recoils, as though he had been burned at the touch of Sakura’s chakra. The eerie golden eye in the metamorphosed half of his face is wide with shock, as he regards his damaged arm, golden sand swirling furiously and attempting to reform but somehow failing.

 

Unlike Temari, Sasuke knew exactly what it was he was witnessing, and he knew he was seeing the  _impossible_ —

 

“Grab Sakura-chan, I’ll hold this bastard off!” Naruto is a loud, bright and reassuring presence. His hands are already fixed into the seal for his trademark jutsu, that ridiculous technique that no one but Naruto had the bottomless chakra reserves to use so effortlessly.

 

The demonic Suna shinobi—there was no other word that could adequately describe him—seemed to have regained control of his sand. A hideous chimaera, he shrieked and thrashed in fury, throwing a wave of sand in Sasuke’s direction.

 

With a yell, Naruto detonates several explosive tags. The sand wave recoils. Naruto’s eyes are bright, his teeth gritted. Several more Kage Bunshin materialise. “It’s fine, Sasuke! I’ve got him—get Sakura-chan! Pakkun, help them!”

 

“You don’t need to tell me that!” The small dog retorts, already leaping up the tree. "I'll  _never_  hear the end of it from Kakashi if I don't get you all out of here in one piece!"

 

Pushing aside the strain of chakra exhaustion, Sasuke darts forward to catch his now swaying teammate before she can plummet off the tree branch. What she had just done evidently took out almost all her existing chakra reserves, not to mention her injuries from being flung into that tree at such high speed.

 

He grabs her arm, winds it over his shoulder, trying to support her the best he can, checking quickly for broken bones. Innately, he sighs in relief when he sees that her neck is at a normal angle. Spinal injuries were some of the most nightmarish to deal with on a battlefield. He may have been the top graduate of their year but he readily admitted that he was completely useless when it came to treating debilitating injuries. He had to take her to safety.

 

Pakkun is sniffing Sakura. “Careful, boy— I smell blood from internal injuries. She broke something, probably a rib.” Makes a face. “Or  _somethings_.”

 

As gently as possible, he helps her to the ground, trying not to jar her injuries.

 

He notes gratefully that Naruto is keeping the sand creature well-occupied. He had no more chakra to attempt another Chidori, and had frankly been incredibly lucky that he was still standing despite his botched attempt at a third one before his two teammates arrived. For shinobi who pushed far beyond the limits of chakra exhaustion could end up stopping their very own hearts.

 

Sakura coughs, blood mixed with spit. The sight alarms him; internal bleeding, as Pakkun diagnosed. But it is paired with the overwhelming sense of relief.

 

_She’s alive._

 

For the moment, the sight of the rise and fall of her chest banishes away the sickening feeling that had consumed him when she had leapt in front of him, with nothing but a kunai against the sand demon, ready to meet her end. The cold feeling of his stomach twisting up when she was easily batted away by that boy’s sand claw and hurled against the tree, sand already crawling across her body. He didn’t fail this time, not like on that day—

 

Dimly, he’s aware of Naruto’s yells and the tumult of the battle around them as his teammate hurls his clones at the Suna shinobi. Sensei’s dog summon—Pakkun—is saying something, but he isn’t listening. He finds himself looking up, not at Naruto or the monstrous boy—but at the now-frozen tendrils of wood bursting out of the tree Sakura had been crushed up against minutes ago.

 

Sakura’s trying to say something, but all that comes out is another wet-sounding, hacking cough. Her eyelids flutter. She’s struggling to stay conscious.

 

“Don’t talk,” he says urgently, as his mind races furiously to piece together everything that had just happened.

 

Sasuke had never known Senju Hashirama in person, of course. But he had grown up hearing tales about the First Hokage of the Hidden Leaf at his mother’s knee. Uchiha Mikoto had always told her youngest bedtime stories, where history mixed with legend.

 

And one of the many stories she vividly brought to life had been the famous battle against Uchiha Madara at the Valley of the End. How Hashirama had struggled, held on and eventually defeated the man renowned as the most powerful of their clan.

 

At this very moment, leaning heavily against his shoulder, her face pale and drawn, pink hair streaked with dirt and blood, Sakura looks as far as possible from the pictures Sasuke had seen of the tall and dark-haired legend who had created the modern shinobi world.

 

Yet, somehow or another, his famous bloodline limit ran in her veins.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my very first Naruto fic on Ao3, and this fic was inspired by my desire to explore several things:
> 
> 1) Sakura possessing the Mokuton, how that affects Team 7 and changes the timeline. It's not going to be an easy power-up but a skill she's going to have to work _hard_ to learn to use—I wanted to explore the nature of how elemental-manipulation bloodline limits show up. Sakura has many self-esteem issues that she will have to work through too. 
> 
> 2) Team 7 bonding and growing together as a family, because I've been rereading Part 1 and I just love...the vibe there, compared to the later parts of the manga. Man, _what could have been._ This fic will be chiefly exploring Team 7's friendship, not romantic shipping.
> 
> 3) Worldbuilding! Digging into village history and politics. The world Naruto is set in honestly is a very interesting and rich one with so much potential. This story is a chance for me to expand canon, rewrite and reinterpret some of the bits that I thought could be improved on.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	2. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Seven recuperates in the hospital, and there are many things to ponder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter depicts some elements of psychological trauma and unresolved grief.

The demonic Suna shinobi is grinning at him, the jagged white of his sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight that pours in through the window.

 

“Is that the sum of your existence?” The red-haired boy’s green eyes glow with the eerie golden sheen of the murderous sand spirit that possessed him.

 

“Has your hatred and desire to kill me given way to fear?” He mocks.

 

Sasuke refuses to quail under that gaze, summons up his chakra, the smell of ozone rising, the reassuring crackle and chirp of electricity, and he strikes  _fast_  at the sand demon—

 

—Who merely disintegrates into the darkness, before reforming into a human figure once more—

 

—Except the moonlight is now a splash of silver on the shining edge of a blade, held by a dark silhouette that was no longer the Suna shinobi but instead an ANBU captain, the mocking grin of the white weasel mask at his hip—

 

“You are weak because your hatred is weak,” His brother coos, their parents a bloodied, crumpled pile at his feet. Then, his dark eyes bleed into the crimson and black pinwheels of the Mangekyō Sharingan, and he is seven years old again and  _helpless_  and  _screaming_ —

 

—but then, a tall, bronze-skinned man with long dark hair steps forward, his hands folded into the Snake handseal, vines bursting forth and crushing the apparition of Itachi, who melts back into the terrifying, half-transformed Suna shinobi.

 

In the grip of the vines, the figure writhes and shrieks, disintegrating and unable to reform.

 

He spins around in the darkened room to look at his saviour but the man has disappeared and there is only his pink-haired teammate, her hands fixed into the same handseal. Her face is calm and settled, and Naruto is by her side, in his usual orange jumpsuit, blue eyes resolute as he brings his thumb to his mouth, bites down and slams his hands onto the ground, and then there is nothing but light—

 

* * *

 

Sasuke’s eyes snap open. His heart is still racing.  _A nightmare_. 

 

A featureless ceiling, sunlight pouring in through the window on the far side of the room, a cloudless warm blue sky. The sharp smell of antiseptic. Of course. He’s in the hospital.

 

The events come rushing back in a torrent of images.

 

 _The chaos in the arena, the invasion, the wooden vines erupting from the sand, Naruto somehow summoning a giant toad and Sakura_ —

 

He tries sitting up, only for every muscle in his body to scream in protest. He slumps back down in bed.

 

His left arm  _radiates_  with pain. Fuck. He’d  _really_  overdone the Chidori. He swallows, but his throat is horribly parched. Someone has helpfully left a pitcher of water and plastic cup on the table next to his bed.

 

He drinks greedily. 

 

Slowly, he takes in his surroundings. He’s in a four-bed ward, but none of the other beds are occupied. There’s a needle in his right arm, plugged to an IV line. The clock on the wall informs him that it is eleven in the morning.

 

How many days had he been asleep?

 

After his third attempt to get up and walk to the door fails spectacularly, he resigns himself to remaining in bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he finds his mind drifting once more to everything that had just happened.

 

Both his teammates were certainly full of surprises. And  _strong_ , an envious part of him whispers. 

 

His mind races with more questions than answers, as he replays the events in his head.

 

Naruto had been brimming with an overwhelmingly  _powerful_  chakra, that had  _somehow_  managed to match and overpower even the sand spirit possessing the Suna boy. He had grown used to Naruto’s seemingless bottomless stamina but— _how_? An unknown bloodline limit?

 

For his loud teammate seemed to defy the  _basic rules_  governing how chakra reserves worked, bloodline limit or not. He had watched from a distance, Sakura leaning on his shoulder, barely conscious, as Naruto attempted a summoning technique, only for the blonde to yell with frustration when a toad evidently much smaller than he expected appeared. He had felt the cold panic overtaking him again, preparing to ask Pakkun to take care of Sakura, because obviously Naruto was  _out of chakra_  himself. No matter if he was exhausted too: Sasuke just  _couldn’t_  stand by and let his teammate take on the rampaging incarnation of sand himself, because Naruto’s luck would run out. And instead of Sakura, Naruto would  _die_ right in front of him—

 

—only for Naruto to close his eyes in concentration, unleashing a huge wave of potent chakra that washed over them all like a tsunami. For him to then summon a colossal toad which he proceeded to Henge into a gigantic fox. Sasuke had goggled at the sight, not so much because of its resemblance to the dreaded beast that attacked Konoha—he had been too young to remember the incident himself, after all—but because the amount of chakra it took to not only summon, but also  _transform_  a being as large as that toad summon was astronomical. Yet, Naruto had minutes earlier, clearly been on the brink of chakra exhaustion.

 

He felt his head aching.  _Nothing_  made sense. Shinobi who tried to dredge up more chakra when they were past their limits invariably arrived home in body bags. Evidently, except for Uzumaki Naruto.

  

And then there was the matter of Sakura.

 

Who possessed a bloodline limit belonging to the  _First Hokage_. The man the world knew as the God of Shinobi, whom even the very strongest member of his clan had been unable to defeat. When Senju Hashirama had finally passed on, the Mokuton attained an even more mystical and venerated status amongst Konoha shinobi. For many had hoped that Hashirama's direct descendants would perhaps be capable of manifesting the immensely powerful bloodline limit, but that proved not to be the case. Consequently, it—unlike the Sharingan in Sasuke's own family—became associated uniquely with the halo of greatness that surrounded one man. 

 

Although he had witnessed Hashirama's abilities resurfacing in Sakura with his very own eyes, it still seemed surreal trying to reconcile the legendary Mokuton with the girl he had thought weak and from an unremarkable background. He knew she was intelligent, probably even better than him at theory and retaining detailed academic knowledge, but she hadn’t stood out in the Academy when it came to elemental ninjutsu. By contrast, the Academy instructors had been suitably impressed when he demonstrated his clan’s signature fire techniques. They’d murmured approvingly, mentioned how no one else in his class was able to perform elemental ninjutsu at that level.

 

So how had Sakura performed the famed Mokuton? Had she even  _known_  she could?

 

In his nightmare, his female teammate’s face had been as calm as the surface of a still lake, her hands formed into the handseal for the Wood Release. But she hadn’t been that way during the fight. Thanks to his Sharingan, the wild anger and frenzied desperation in her face was deeply etched into his mind with crystal clarity.

 

Was she a Senju by blood?

 

His mind flashes through their time at the Academy, trying to piece whatever information he had together. But as far as he could recall, she had been one of the students who hailed from a civilian background. 

 

It was true he didn't know much about her time in the Academy—he had been annoyed by the obvious crush she and many other girls had on him. So, he had spent a great deal of time doing his best to ignore them. But he simply refused believe that he could have missed out on the fact that she was related to the First Hokage. His Academy instructors had never bothered to disguise their awe for his brother’s talents, and had always remarked how it was to be expected of the heir of one of Konoha’s founding clans.

 

They  _wouldn’t_  have been discreet if one of his classmates had the blood of Konoha’s other most important founding family, let alone being a direct descendant of Senju Hashirama himself. Not when their later history lessons covered the legend himself, as well as his famed granddaughter, Tsunade.

 

As a small child, he hadn’t paid particular attention to history before he started at the Academy.

 

Not because he was unintelligent or lacked curiosity, but because history in Konoha was usually bound up in thick tomes or dusty scrolls written in inaccessible jargon. Like many young children at that age, Sasuke disliked sitting still for extended periods. Itachi had been the quiet one, often found seated in a corner with a thick book in that normal time before—

 

He severs that train of thought.

 

—Still, he had learned some history, of course. His mother had told them to him as bedtime stories. When his Uncle Inabi had once remarked it childish and unbefitting of a son of the Head Family, Uchiha Mikoto had responded with a pleasant, sharp smile before reminding her second cousin of the venerated place of oral history in their family’s tradition. And so she continued weaving tales for her youngest as he drifted off to sleep.

 

She spoke of the days long gone, when their family had served different lords and ladies through the centuries, wandering across the nations. She spoke of how Senju Hashirama had been the rival of Uchiha Madara even before Konoha’s founding, his powerful lifeforce allowing him to uniquely manipulate nature. She painted vivid tales about how Madara, who had been such a brilliant general during wartime, had fared poorly in peace. How he had eventually lost what was left of his mind and tried to destroy the village he had helped raise, and had finally perished at the Valley of the End at the hands of Hashirama. 

 

When his family lived, the name of Madara had been taboo amongst them. He existed as a figure admired for his power, but that admiration was often outweighed by fear and revulsion.

 

Still, Mikoto told those stories, because she had considered it all part of Sasuke’s heritage.

 

It was not well-known amongst the younger generation of Konoha shinobi, but Uchiha Mikoto, not Uchiha Fugaku, had been the closest living descendant related to Madara. For while Madara had died childless himself, his younger brother Izuna had been Mikoto’s great-grandfather.

 

A few years after Madara’s death at the Valley of the End, a civilian woman had turned up at the gates of Konoha with a dark-haired preteen bearing a newly-awakened Sharingan. She alleged that the girl had been fathered by Izuna before his death, a seemingly outlandish claim that turned out to be true. Mikoto had therefore been of the line of Uchiha Tajima, and her blood that of the old and ancient Head Family.

 

Many non-Uchiha Konoha shinobi who did not pay close attention to the intricacies clan politics assumed otherwise—that Mikoto’s Uchiha lineage was of less prominence than Fugaku’s. Simply because Fugaku  _had_  been the son of the previous clan head.

 

What they had forgotten was that decades ago, the Uchiha  _themselves_  had reshuffled the line of succession after Madara’s fall from grace and betrayal.

 

Keen to distance themselves as far as possible from their disgraced former leader who had apparently succumbed to madness and to reaffirm their loyalty to the newly-founded village, they had immediately chosen a respected kunoichi to lead them in Madara’s place.

 

Uchiha Himiko’s skill in navigating the tangled quagmire of village politics was as deft and adroit as her talent with the Sharingan. A skilled shinobi and even better politician, she had established a solid working relationship with Hashirama, which allowed their clan to weather the political fallout of Madara’s actions. For many had cast suspicious eyes on the rest of the Uchiha clan, even though Madara had been very much alone in his attempts to assault Konoha.

 

And so Himiko, who had not even expected the title of Clan Head to ever fall on her diminutive shoulders, had waded right into the scrum of inter-clan politics and had painstakingly won most of Konoha’s political players over. Her second son, Kagami, had been the Nidaime’s protégé and the Sandaime’s close companion. Thus, despite the rocky start caused by Madara’s defection, their clan thrived in the new village under Himiko’s astute leadership.

 

She had also been Fugaku’s great-grandmother. And so, the line of succession flowed from Himiko thus, even when Izuna’s estranged daughter was welcomed into Konoha and back into their clan.

 

For the Uchiha did not frown upon mixed unions; on the contrary, the perils of inbreeding had long been made obvious amongst several of the noble families their clan had served before Konoha’s founding. Eager to avoid similar problems, arranged marriages within the clan traditionally matched individuals as distantly related as possible and mixed-marriages outside the clan to non-Uchiha civilians were encouraged now and then.

 

Civilians, or at least individuals who were not from prominent shinobi clans were preferred precisely because the Uchiha did not want another family with significant political influence laying claim to a child with the Sharingan. So, the fact that Izuna’s daughter’s civilian mother had not been an Uchiha was no issue.

 

But they weren’t going to allow anyone closely associated with Madara anywhere near the reigns of leadership, even if the child had never known her uncle or father. Apart from the taint of association, the Uchiha who lived in the time of the village’s founding feared that madness and evil might somehow run in that branch of the family.

 

Eventually, by the time of his parents, the stigma had faded somewhat within the clan that there was no significant opposition to Madara’s great-grandniece being matched to Himiko’s great-grandson. With the birth of Itachi and Sasuke, it neatly reintroduced the blood of the original Head Family back into the line of succession.

 

And so, five years after she died, Sasuke finds himself thinking of the curve of his mother’s smile and the warmth of her dark eyes. The firmness and precision of her hands, whether she was correcting his fighting stance or trying to disentangle the piece of gum he had stuck in his brother's hair.

 

He remembers a strong-willed and compassionate woman, who was—unlike her infamous great-granduncle—staunchly loyal to Konoha.

 

Mikoto had always placed great importance on family. But her definition of family had been rather more expansive, compared to some of the more insular members of their clan. She had named Sasuke after the Sandaime’s father, and had always spoken fondly of the deceased Yondaime and his wife.

 

Unbidden, an old memory he hadn’t thought of in a long time surfaces. One of his earliest memories. 

 

He had been very small, and his brother was helping his mother to light the candles she set out every October 10th. For whom, eight-year-old Itachi had asked, his serious expression illuminated only by the dim glow of the flickering candles, as he carefully arranged the white chrysanthemums piled around the altar. 

 

For all who were lost, she had replied.

 

His face quiet and solemn, Itachi had walked over and hugged their mother around the waist, whilst she ruffled her elder son’s hair affectionately. Sasuke had watched silently, sucking his thumb, still too young to fully understand thoughts of death and loss, as the shadows of the evening lengthened into night, the smell of incense mixing with the scent of the flowers wafting in from the gardens outside. 

 

And suddenly, lying in his hospital bed back in the present, he feels a deep ache instead of the usual anger that any memory containing his brother normally triggered. 

 

He hadn’t lit a candle nor prepared an altar of white chrysanthemums for anyone for the past five years.

 

If Sakura or Naruto had died at the hands of that terrifying sand spirit possessing the boy from Suna, what would he have done? 

 

Would he even have known  _how_  to mourn?

  

* * *

 

It’s around noon when the door bangs open, the handle crashing loudly into the wall. 

 

“ _Sasuke_! You’re finally awake!” Naruto bounces into the room, clad not in his usual eye-searing orange, but the blue-green shades of a hospital gown, identical to the one Sasuke himself was dressed in. The same white plastic bracelet all patients were tagged with encircles Naruto’s wrist.

 

Sasuke winces at the volume of Naruto’s voice, feeling the throbbing in his head worsen. Headaches were one of the many side-effects of overusing the Sharingan, which he had to enormous effect, given the extremely…eventful circumstances he’d undergone.

 

Against his will, he nonetheless finds his lips lifting up in a smirk at the sight of his blonde teammate.

 

“Not so  _loud_ , dead last. I think they only heard you all the way in Kirigakure.”

 

Naruto pouts, but obligingly lowers his voice to a more appropriate decibel. His blue eyes scan Sasuke’s face with concern.

 

“You alright, bastard? After you passed out yesterday, they took Sakura-chan away to fix her up because she broke at least three ribs and one of them punctured her lung. They’re still working on her.”

 

He doesn’t answer Naruto’s question, a tight ball of anxiety back in his chest. “She’ll be okay?”

 

Naruto beams, sunny and warm. “Of course! It’s a good thing you and Pakkun managed her injuries the best you could before we got back. The medic-nins say they’ve fixed worse. They’re just taking a while with her because of the number of patients to be seen. So, you?”

 

He nods tiredly. Every muscle in his body was on fire, even in the simple act of sitting up in bed to face Naruto, but he knew it was just the natural effect of chakra exhaustion. It could have been considerably worse.

 

Like not waking up at all.

_Although, the usual rules for some reason don’t apply to you, dead last, huh?_

 

“It’s nothing. I can probably be discharged. How long have I been asleep?”

 

“It’s only been a day.” Naruto rolls his eyes. “Stop trying to act tough, Sasuke. What the heck is up with your hands?” Motions at the white bandages snaking all the way up to his left elbow.

 

A grudging admission. “I may have overused the Chidori.” He regards Naruto, noting the other’s boundless energy with envy. His teammate’s stamina was  _ridiculous_. “Why are they even keeping you in the hospital anyway? You heal absurdly fast.”

 

Naruto sulks. “I know right? I tried asking them to let me go but those inflexible assholes said I had to stay for ‘observation’. So they sent me for lots of boring tests while you and Sakura-chan were passed out.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t already escaped, dead last.” Naruto wasn’t exactly good at obeying instructions from authority figures.

 

Naruto sighs dramatically at the tragedy of it all. “I  _could_ , but someone needs to be here to check on you and Sakura-chan! Also...well, you know. They’ve stepped up the security after all the shit that went down yesterday.” He grins sheepishly.

 

He points towards the window, and Sasuke sees the flash of four masked ANBU perched on the roof of the adjacent hospital wing. He will bet good money that Naruto had attempted to leave. Several times. 

 

“Do you know what’s happening? The village—I mean—” The words spill out in a tangled rush. Sasuke innately curses his ineloquence.

 

Naruto shakes his head. “It’s a real mess outside, there are all sorts of crazy rumours flying around and I dunno what's true. Everyone’s been up all night healing loads of patients. I heard search-and-rescue is still ongoing because many of the buildings got flattened by a giant-ass snake; when I was downstairs earlier they were still bringing in people, they declared a state of something—”

 

“A state of emergency.” The mention of the snake. So Orochimaru really was behind all this. His mind lingers darkly on the seal branded onto his neck, memories of the raw but corrosive power that it bestowed—

 

“Yeah. It’s pretty bad, you know.” Naruto’s demeanour has lost its earlier cheeriness. “I don't know what the toll is, but they’ve run out of space in the morgue.”

 

He feels nauseous. “Did you hear from Kakashi-sensei?”

 

“No, I haven’t seen him around at all. I tried asking but it’s crazy downstairs. I'm not allowed to leave, and I’ve only run into Shikamaru; he doesn’t know exactly what’s happening either, but he said his father told him most of the jounin are still doing clean-up.”

 

Of course, Sasuke thinks grimly. Konoha had just been invaded. There were bodies still waiting to be gathered up, probably traps that still had to be disarmed, enemy prisoners to be taken into custody and interrogated.

 

His thoughts turn next to the absent third member of their trio. His mind is full of questions about Naruto too, but for now, he keeps them to himself.

 

“Naruto—do you remember what Sakura did in the fight yesterday?”

 

* * *

 

When Sakura first opens her eyes and sees nothing but  _light_ , her first thought was that of course, she’d messed up and was now  _dead_.

 

Sakura wasn’t terribly religious herself, but she had always been a bookworm and through her wide reading, had become acquainted with the various theological debates and artistic depictions about what the Pure Land was like. The famous temple in the capital of Fire Country—the one patronized by the Fire daimyo himself—favoured depictions of an eternally sunlit land full of flowering trees. The temple itself boasted a gorgeous, gigantic mural illustrating it as such. According to her parents, who had been there before, it drew throngs of pilgrims and tourists every day.

 

In any case, she was  _dead_ ,  and it was all her fault and sensei would have it on his conscience. Her parents would attempt to kill him, fail and be court martialed for attempting to harm a Konoha shinobi and then have to wear mourning black all their life—

 

That is, until she realized that the blinding white light was the beam of an operating theatre lamp directly above her head.

 

Her next thought was that she had been hit by a cart and trampled by an entire herd of horses. Every part of her body seemed to  _hurt_. On the bright side, it was additional confirmation that she was most definitely not dead.

 

“Oh dear, you’re awake.” It’s a masked medic-nin, his hair tucked neatly into a surgical cap, hands glowing green.

 

She groans. “Shouldn’t I be?”

 

“Not yet actually, we aren’t done. You also have a concussion and we need to put you under to heal that, or your brain might get some dangerous swelling. Looks like we need more anaesthetic. Relax.” He pats Sakura’s hand comfortingly and beckons someone else over.

 

There’s the prick of a needle in her arm, and she falls back into the welcoming darkness.

 

* * *

 

The second time she wakes up, it’s to the smell of hot coffee and two boys arguing.

 

Her body doesn’t hurt quite as much, but she still feels battered all over. As Sakura knew, medical ninjutsu—contrary to popular perceptions—was not magic. While it could snatch many from the maws of death in truly wondrous ways, it was always essential to ensure the patient rested and received a proper diet after the worst of the damage had been repaired, for optimal recovery to be achieved.

 

“Bastard, don’t bring it up just yet when she awakes, we need to let her rest! She got the worst injuries of us three—”

 

It takes a monumental effort just to open her eyes.

 

“Idiot, haven’t you heard a  _single_  word of what I’ve said? This is  _important_ , we can’t leave it. She performed the—”

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me,  _like_ , only  _fifty_  times in just the past three hours—”

 

“And I can’t believe I had to explain  _everything_ , we learned this in  _class_! Was there any lesson you  _didn’t_  sleep through?”

 

“It was so  _boring_! I mean, if they at least told it in the exciting way your mother did for you, maybe I would have paid attention!”

 

To her left, she sees Naruto sticking his tongue out at an annoyed-looking Sasuke, who is seated in a wheelchair, two steaming cups of coffee on the bedside table. The relief she feels at seeing her teammates alive and well is overwhelming.

 

“Can you two please soften your voices?” She manages to groan out.  _Ugh_ , her throat feels awful.

 

Her teammates freeze, before their heads whip in her direction. It’s so strange to see them both in the baggy blue-green hospital gown instead of their usual clothes.

 

“Sakura-chan!” Naruto yells. He bounds over, nearly knocking over Sasuke’s IV stand, about to wrap her in an overly-enthusiastic hug.

 

“Stop, dead last—her ribs,  _remember_?” Sasuke hisses warningly.

 

“ _Shit_ , I forgot.” Naruto’s blue eyes widen comically as he halts. She finds herself giggling, but then wincing.  _Right_. Her ribs.

 

Just how many of them did the medic-nin who had run into them on the outskirts of Konoha say she’d broken, again? Three? Four?  _Shit_.

 

She feels weary just at the thought of the entire ordeal they had been through. The actual fight itself was a confused, incoherent blur in her head, but she remembered the aftermath.

 

Naruto had at first passed out after defeating the red-haired Suna boy, who had been taken away by the blonde kunoichi who claimed she was his sister. For an awful fifteen minutes, Sasuke had been stuck alone with Pakkun trying to figure out the impossible logistics of just how he and the small dog could drag his two teammates home between themselves. She had tried to offer suggestions, but kept coughing up blood, and Pakkun had ordered her to be quiet and  _stop moving_  or she was going to worsen her injuries. She remembered looking up at the sky and beaming foolishly. She was taking orders from a  _dog_. Sasuke had looked alarmed at her expression, and there had been a heated conversation with Pakkun about the possibility of traumatic brain injuries.

 

Fortunately, Naruto had regained consciousness after Pakkun had decided that gnawing on his arm to wake him up was an acceptable evil. After a great deal of yelling and cursing, Naruto had, with his phenomenal stamina, dredged up the chakra for two Kage Bunshin, all the while waving off Sasuke’s vocal protests about the risks of chakra exhaustion. The Kage Bunshins had helped her and Sasuke limp back close enough to the village, where they had then run into other Konoha shinobi.

 

In the present, looking at her two teammates, she feels… _warm_. And  _grateful_. They really were a mismatched lot, but they had  _survived_.

 

Then the thought rises up, bitter and poisonous:  _but_   _Naruto and Sasuke are so much stronger than you. What have_ you _ever done—_

 

Swallowing hard, she takes a deep breath.  _No_. She had made a vow in the Forest of Death. No matter if she was weak now, they had survived and it had given her a chance. A chance to become strong enough to truly stand by Sasuke and Naruto’s side.

 

And she would take it.

 

* * *

 

Naruto has helped her sit up, obligingly obtained a cup of hot green tea from the hospital pantry (Sasuke had first insisted that they check the medical chart attached to her bed—‘Alright, it says normal beverages are fine for her, just no alcohol.’ ‘Bastard,  _why_  the fuck would I get alcohol?’ ‘I was just  _telling you_  what it said.’), and pushed Sasuke’s wheelchair and IV stand to the side of her bed.

 

Damn, Naruto was actually kind of good at this…looking after people thing, wasn’t he?  

 

Now, nursing her warm cup of tea, she finds herself watching as her two teammates carry on a bizarre, silent conversation through a combination of frowns, grunts and raised brows.

 

“What are you two going on about?” Her eyes narrow, as Naruto shifts uncomfortably. A moment of panic. “Is it my parents—”

 

“No, your parents are still out of Konoha. Naruto just went downstairs to check. They missed the whole shitshow.” Sasuke’s voice is curt but reassuring.

 

She sighs in relief, as she sips a mouthful of hot tea. “Thanks, Naruto.” 

 

More than a month ago, her father had apologetically informed her that he and her mother would be out of town on the day of the Chuunin Exam finals. Haruno Kizashi and Mebuki were civilian merchants, and they were frequently out of Konoha meeting business contacts and suppliers. She’d laughed, combing through her long hair and told him it didn’t matter. She probably wouldn’t be one of the exam finalists anyway, and she was fine watching alone from the audience.

 

Idly, she runs her fingers through her now-short hair.

 

It’s surreal, thinking back to the strange normalcy of that moment. It feels like another existence altogether.

 

“Sakura-chan…” Naruto eyes Sasuke uneasily. He exhales, and it comes out in a rush. “How long have you known that you could perform the First Hokage’s techniques?”

 

She stares at Naruto quizzically. Nothing he says fits together.  _Right_ , the medic had informed her that she had also received a concussion. Maybe that was why her brain wasn’t catching up. She just hoped she hadn’t sustained any permanent brain damage, because that would truly end her shinobi career just when it had barely started.  

 

“What are you talking about, Naruto?”   

 

An entirely different voice breaks in. “Ah yes, I would like to know what  _that_  is about too.”

 

Kakashi-sensei is by the door, dirt and blood streaking his flak jacket, hair disheveled and Pakkun next to him. 

 

“Sensei!” Naruto really has no concept of an indoor voice, while Sasuke looks relieved.

 

Naruto leaps up in excitement and this time, knocks over Sasuke’s IV stand for real. Sasuke lets out a rather uncharacteristic and undignified yelp, his injured left hand impeding his ability to manoeuvre his wheelchair out of the way. 

 

Before the metal pole and IV bag can land on an unfortunate and very displeased Sasuke, Kakashi-sensei deftly catches and rights it.

 

He smiles at them tiredly. “Glad to see my cute genin are in one piece, for the most part.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thanks for all your comments and kudos on the first chapter! I’m simply bowled over by the amazing response! 
> 
> 1) More depictions of Uchiha women to redress the imbalance in canon? Absolutely! As some of you may have guessed, the name Himiko is a homage to the legendary shamaness-queen who was said to have reigned in ancient Japan. 
> 
> 2) What you see in this chapter is Sasuke’s perspective of his family’s history. It isn’t totally infallible or unbiased—there are certainly things 12 y/o Sasuke _doesn’t_ know! But it is importantly, intended to reinterpret the manga by fleshing out a different perspective from what we hear from Obito or Madara (who themselves have their own biases) in canon. Also, canonically, most of the Uchiha threw their lot in with Hashirama and turned their backs on Madara. They must’ve got a replacement as clan head, yeah? I have chosen to fill in that blank with the character of Himiko.
> 
> 3) If Kishimoto is going to draw Izuna looking so much like Sasuke, I’m not going to pass up the chance to make him Sasuke’s great-great grandfather. 
> 
> That’s it for now, and comments and kudos are much appreciated!


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